


Fae Deal

by Dragongoddess13



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Based on a Tumblr Post, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, beta what beta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:34:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24415234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragongoddess13/pseuds/Dragongoddess13
Summary: No one really knows what lies in the Godswood. It is an unspoken fact that the people of The North live with everyday. Parents tell stories of the beasts of the forest, prowling the inner depths looking for lost children to eat. Tradesmen share exaggerated tales of the beast they escaped on their journey through the shallows, the mates they lost in hunting parties. To the Clerics the Godswood is a sacred place, home to the gods that choose to walk the realm of men. To the kings it’s a place of power, a place to pray for favor.Based on this tumblr post: https://deluxeloy.tumblr.com/post/615288841072443392/human-deal-fey-very-well-when-you-return-home
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 12
Kudos: 112





	Fae Deal

Fae Deal

xXx

No one really knows what lies in the Godswood. It is an unspoken fact that the people of The North live with everyday. Parents tell stories of the beasts of the forest, prowling the inner depths looking for lost children to eat. Tradesmen share exaggerated tales of the beast they escaped on their journey through the shallows, the mates they lost in hunting parties. To the Clerics the Godswood is a sacred place, home to the gods that choose to walk the realm of men. To the kings it’s a place of power, a place to pray for favor. 

Gendry doesn’t particularly care about any of that. Like all young men, he grew up on stories of the wood and the dangers of straying far from home, but at this moment, the concern for his safety is null and void. His only concern lies in what it will take to save his mother. Her health is declining, has been for several years now and Gendry had hoped that the Northern Cold would stave off the sickness that only seemed to flare in southern humidity. It had worked for some time, but it was beginning to take it’s toll again. 

The Godswood is thick, the bramble on the ground making his trek through long and arduous. He finds he must divide his attention between watching his footfalls and the map the red priestess in Wintertown drew him. It had cost him several gold, a week's worth of money for rations, but he was desperate and he only hoped the hag wasn’t sending him to his death in some ill begotten attempt at mercy. 

The other villagers had told him to prepare for the worst in regards to his mother and like the community that they were, they had even done what they could to help them, but Gendry was not a man who listened to the opinions of others. He was stubborn, a bull they called him, and he was not so willing to lie down and take what the gods offered, not when they had offered so little all his life.

The trek into the deepest part of the wood takes three days. Three days in which he must survive harsh winds and unknown creatures. Three days in which he must stave off hunger and exhaustion and the haunting melody that permeates the woods, trying to draw him in. 

It is on the third day, as the sun sets that Gendry steps into a clearing. The trees rise up around him like a pitfall, blocking out the sky save for a near perfect circle at the tops of them. The ground is a bed of soft moss and tamped down grass and he can see a large indent at the center where an enormous animal undoubtedly slept the night before. 

The priestess’ instructions ring in his ears as he stares off at the patchy nest.  _ “Go to the center of the clearing.” _ she had told him.  _ “Lie down in the bed of the Wolf Queen and pray. Pray for mercy and hope she is feeling generous enough to give more.”  _

Gendry does as he was instructed, but as he lies back in the patch he finds the weariness in his bones settling in, unable to push it away in his desperation to reach this place. He closes his eyes and thinks of a wolf like the hag described and he prays to her, he prays for her help. As exhaustion consumes him, he feels himself sink into sleep, a cacophony of howls echoing around him as the darkness takes hold.

xXx

Consciousness finds Gendry slowly, and yet he is still surrounded by darkness. The moon is full and high above, nearly perfectly centered in the tops of the trees. He knows, somewhere in the haze of sleep, that he should feel cold, that he should be shivering and yet he feels as though he is lying on a featherbed, warmth surrounding him. 

“The witch is a crafty one.” he hears the voice clearly, ringing through his mind. It has a rough echoing quality to it, and is decidedly female. “She sent you here to die, as though that would appease me.” her words should scare him, but he feels no fear. He does, however, feel the urge to sit up, so he does and it’s not long after that he realizes why he felt too warm. 

The nest is no longer empty save for him, now, coiled around the edges a massive grey direwolf lays, her head almost as big as his torso, laying on his legs. An enormous black eye is open, looking up at him. 

“Rest traveler, your journey has not gone unnoticed. Your courage will not go unrewarded.” she tells him and the urge to listen overwhelms him. He lays back down, but this time he turns over, burrowing his face into her soft fur. He feels a rumble under his cheek and after a moment he realizes she’s chuckling. The sound lulls him back to sleep.

xXx

When Gendry wakes again, the moon is no longer in the space left by the trees, the sky glows with the first rays of the morning sun, and the crisp chill of the early hours settles into his bones. He shivers, sitting up and wrapping his arms around him. In the north he’s grown accustomed to wearing thick furs and skins to stave off the cold, but he’s never been particularly wealthy and what remains of the pelts after the local lords cloth their families are not all that good. He shivers again, belatedly wondering how he managed not to freeze to death in the night. 

And then he remembers, like a flood the memory returns. The wolf, so large, wrapped around him, keeping him safe. She spoke to him, but then again she didn’t. It was strange, like a dream and yet he knew it wasn’t. 

“You’re thinking awfully loudly so early in the morning.” The wolf’s voice is different this time. The echoing quality is gone, leaving only a soft, sweet drawl. He follows the sound a few feet across the clearing. However, what he finds is not a wolf, but instead, a beautiful young woman. Her brown hair is loose around her shoulders and her eyes are a silvery grey that glows in the rising sunlight. Her complexion is pale, like porcelain but there’s a rosy tint to her cheeks. Surrounding her is a large grey fur, draped and held up by her upper arms, covering her breasts and the rest of her body. She was, by far, the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. “Are you going to sit there all morning, or are you going to tell me why you’ve traveled all this way to see me?” she speaks again, pulling him from his thoughts.

He opens his mouth to speak, but words do not form. He knows what he must say, what he is there to ask, but like a spark in the darkest of moonless nights, everything floods back to him like the light and finds himself speaking without thinking. 

“What do you mean she sent me here to die?” he asks. He knew it was a possibility, that the hag in the village was only trying to get him killed. That she only wished to take his money and be rid of him so she never had to worry about him seeking revenge. 

The young woman smiles. “Melisandre.” she says. “That is what she is called. The Red Priestess. That is also what she is called. She has gone by many names in the long life she has lived.” the woman turns and he realizes rather belatedly that she’s sitting on a stump he hadn’t noticed the night before. The furs shift with her, the two ends falling open, exposing a long bare thigh. He does his best not to stare. “She has learned to cheat death, and believes herself powerful for it. She plays with forces she does not fully understand, and hopes to conquer them.” she smiles sweetly at him, tilting her head to look at him as though he were a puzzle she needs to solve. “She sent you here as a sacrifice to me. In your veins runs the blood of man who destroyed what I held most dear. Melisandre seems to be under the impression that sending you here to die by my hand will appease me, and save her from the consequences of the part she played the act that destroyed what was mine.” 

“Was she right?” he asks, fear curling in the pit of his stomach. 

The young woman sighs, standing from her perch. Even while sitting on the ground he can see how small she is. A far cry from the massive beast he slept beside the night before. 

“Do you know who I am?” she asks, walking slowly toward him. 

Gendry hesitates. “The wolf Queen?” he questions. She stops before him and with a grace he’s never witnessed before, she kneels beside him, leaning close. 

“Correct. And I have taken an oath to protect the innocent.” he knew that vaguely at least. A great many tales had been spun within earshot in the years he had inhabited the north. The Wolf Queen was heralded by the smallfolk as they’re protector, their guardian. She was said to strike down those in power who would exploit them and to see the safe return of the children that wandered lost in her wood. 

“And am I innocent?” he asks. He hasn’t lived a very long life by some standards, but innocent was never a word he would use to describe himself. 

She smiles at him, leaning close and brushing the backs of her curled fingers against the stubble on his cheek. “You are, young blacksmith, despite your grumpy disposition, you are.” Gendry feels his heart stutter in his chest. Not from fear, but something else, something he hasn’t felt before. He knows it is partially an attraction. She is a beautiful woman, any man would be a fool to think otherwise, but he’s felt attraction before and it’s never been quite like this. “Now,” she continues, leaning back to sit on her haunches. “Tell me what makes you so desperate to come all the way out here. What makes a man trek three days in the Northern Winter to seek out a legend? A woman? Wealth? Power?”

“My mother.” he replies, watching a flicker of surprise flash through her eyes. “She’s ill. Has been for a long time. I… I can’t lose her. She’s all I have.” as he speaks the Wolf Queen looks away, but he would bet all he had that he had seen a shimmer of a tear in her eyes. 

“This I can do for you, for it is within my power, young black smith. But like all things in life, there is a cost.” 

“Anything.” he says a little too quickly and she finally looks at him again, a devious smile tilting her lips. 

“Anything?” 

He steels himself, nodding. “Anything.” 

The Wolf Queen hums, smirking to herself. “Hmm… I want… Your first born child.” she tells him. “Yes, that’s it. A child. Young blood for my pack.” 

He knew the notion should have bothered him. He’s had so little family all his life that in the rare moments he allowed himself to day dream, he had dreamt of a large family, many children, all precious to him. But as he sat in that clearing, his heart racing, his mind clouded over with feelings he couldn’t explain, he found himself agreeing. She looks sad at his easy agreement, but she doesn’t comment on it, her eyes suddenly glowing almost white. The change in her eyes lasts a few moments before they return to their gorgeous silver. 

“It is done.” she tells him. “When you return home, you find your mother in good health.” 

“Thank you, she means everything to me.” he replies, relief washing over him. 

“I know.” 

“So,” he speaks again as she stands from the ground beside him. “When do we start?” he asks. 

“Pardon?” she turns to look down at him. 

“You said you wanted my first born.” he replies, getting to his feet. 

“Yes, and you agreed.” 

“Right, so, when do we start?” 

The Wolf Queen stares up at him confused until it seems to dawn on her, what he means. “Oh.” she says, red flooding her cheeks. “I see.” 

“I’m sorry, have I misunderstood?” he asks. 

“No, I suppose not really. It would certainly be the easiest and quickest way to collect on our deal.” she looks away, thoughtful before looking back at him. “You seem so eager to bed a fae, why? Do you not know the dangers of such.”

“I can think of no man who would be so foolish as to not want to lie with such a beautiful woman.” he tells her, watching the confident smirk slip away. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” It's barely a whisper in the wind. 

“How can anyone not?” he replies just as softly. 

He doesn’t really remember how it starts, but one minute she is standing a few feet away, her fur cloak draped elegantly around her like the queen she is and the next she is above him, sitting astride his hips and moaning her pleasure to the morning sun. her skin is as soft as it looks, her body petite and toned. She is a vision of beauty a man like Gendry should never be privy to and yet here he is, calling out to the heavens in what just might amount to prayer as she rides him to mutual completion. 

They lay together in the cold morning light, though Gendry feels only warmth tucked under her fur cloak. He feels her hum in satisfaction against him and the sound is so calming it lulls him to sleep. 

xXx

Gendry wakes in his own bed and believes for one horrifying moment that it was all a dream. But then he hears the sound of his mother’s voice, singing softly in the next room as she kneads dough for their supper. He dresses quickly and throws up the door, starting her. 

“Gendry, good heavens. When did you get home?” she asks, clutching the front of her apron. 

He doesn’t answer, rushing to her and pulling her into his arms. “How are you feeling?” 

“Quite well actually. In fact, I haven’t felt this well in quite some time.” she tells him. He grins, big and wide and full of joy. His mother merely stares in shock, a part of her believing her son to have gone mad. 

Gendry goes back to his life rather easily. He repairs swords and tools, fixes armor for the knights that pass through and every evening he goes home to his mother, whose health continues to improve. The villagers do not question this miracle more than once. He merely tells them that he prayed to The Wolf Queen and they leave it at that. 

He sees the hag only once more. She is clearly surprised to see him, but he merely gives her a look that tells her all she needs to know of her scheme and she’s never seen in the village again. 

As winter turns to spring Gendry finds his thoughts, as they so often do, turning to the beautiful young woman deep in the godswood. He dreams of her eyes, of her silky brown hair, or her soft porcelain skin. He hears her voice in the wind and feels safe, cared for. And if he notices a direwolf and her cub along the edges of the godswood around Wintertown, he merely smiles and remembers to pay tribute to his family with his nightly prayers. 


End file.
